The walls, colossal and impenetrable, stretched endlessly, their sheer magnitude commanding respect. They formed an unyielding barrier against the mysterious waters that lay beyond—a foreboding expanse known to harbour unimaginable monsters. Behind these towering fortifications, a single window was carved into the weathered stone. Within this enclave stood an aged figure, his presence a testament to the passage of time itself.
This elder, leaning against an old staff, gazed out with eyes that held the weight of ages. His weathered countenance bore lines etched by years of witnessing the world's evolution. In the dim light filtering through the small window, he murmured to himself, his voice a melodic blend of contemplation and knowing, "So it's time already, hmmm."
Within the confines of this weathered window and amidst the formidable walls, an aura of mystery enveloped the figure. His solitude amid the aged stone hinted at a deeper connection to the secrets held by the walls, evoking a sense of reverence and anticipation for what was to come.
On an ominous night, darkness enveloped the village of Katancho, shrouding it in an eerie silence. Within this tranquil facade lurked an impending menace. The tranquillity shattered as a nefarious force descended upon the village with ruthless intent. Amidst the chaos, a 19-year-old boy, perched atop a vantage point, bore witness to the onslaught.
The air crackled with tension as the boy's gaze swept across the unfolding mayhem. Fear and terror danced in the shadows cast by the engulfing darkness. His heart pounded with a mixture of disbelief and horror, watching the forces of malevolence sweep through the once-peaceful streets.
Buildings echoed with the cacophony of destruction, their foundations quivering under the weight of the onslaught. Flames licked at the structures, painting the night sky with an ominous hue. The boy's eyes widened with a mix of fear and determination, his thoughts racing as he absorbed the devastating scene before him.
From his vantage point, he felt a surge of emotions—powerlessness mingled with a resolve to protect, a fiery determination kindling within him. It was a night etched into his memory, marking the genesis of his unwavering commitment to safeguard his village from such malevolent forces.
In the crisp wintry air, amidst the backdrop of Katancho's serene surroundings, a younger Riayug stood shoulder to shoulder with his companions. His words, filled with unwavering determination, echoed through the frost-laden air as he spoke of his aspirations.
"I will join the Falar Force when I grow up," declared Riayug, his voice carrying the weight of his resolve. His eyes, illuminated by a fervent spark, glimmered with the innocence of youth, yet harboured an unyielding determination. "I'll protect our people, put an end to those inhumans, and ensure safety and happiness for everyone."
His proclamation resonated with a sense of righteous duty, his young heart ablaze with the passion to combat the forces that threatened the tranquillity of their village. Surrounded by friends whose eyes reflected both admiration and solidarity, Riayug's words lingered in the wintry air, imprinting upon the hearts of those who stood beside him—a vow etched in the tapestry of his youthful dreams.
Amidst the snow-laden landscapes of Katancho, Riayug's unwavering dedication manifested in tireless efforts towards his dream. Day and night blurred into a seamless continuum as he relentlessly pursued his aspirations. Despite the distance separating his village in the far North and his school nestled in the distant South, he traversed these expanses, fueled by an unyielding determination.
In the echoing corridors of his school, Riayug's diligence and resolve were palpable. His dedication to his cause bore fruit, earning him the accolade of the strongest among his peers. A trophy, a tangible testament to his unwavering commitment, found its place in his hands, a symbol of his relentless pursuit of strength and skill.
The dichotomy between the snowy expanse of his village and the distant, temperate South reflected the contrast in Riayug's life. His journey mirrored the contrasting landscapes—braving the wintry hardships of Katancho while striving for greatness in the distant lands of the South. Yet, his heart remained tethered to his home, his dreams fueling a determination that transcended the geographical boundaries between these two realms.
In the tapestry of Riayug's life, Zaaro emerged as a steadfast companion, a kindred spirit bound by shared dreams and aspirations. Their bond, forged in the fires of friendship, found its foundation in admiration and mutual respect.
Zaaro, with eyes alight with reverence, looked upon Riayug as a paragon of strength and determination. Their shared dreams intertwined seamlessly, both harbouring a fervent desire to enlist in the prestigious Falar Force. The camaraderie they shared went beyond mere friendship; it was a bond steeped in shared aspirations and unwavering support.
Their aspirations, however, were tethered to time's constraints. The age requirement of 19 years to enlist and ascend to the esteemed ranks of Falarayans stood as an imposing obstacle, an unwavering rule that dictated their destiny. Despite this limitation, their determination remained unshaken, their hearts pulsating with a shared resolve to overcome this barrier and forge their path towards the Falar Force, standing as guardians against the malevolent forces threatening their world.
Riayug's path towards fulfilling his dreams encountered an unexpected roadblock in the form of parental disapproval. The fervour that burned within him, igniting his aspirations to join the Falar Force, clashed against the adamant wishes of his parents.
Their concern, born from a place of love and protectiveness, cast a shadow over Riayug's ambitions. Their apprehension regarding the dangers that loomed within the realm of the Falar Force stood as an insurmountable barrier, an obstacle barricading his journey towards his desired destiny.
Despite their apprehensions, Riayug's resolve remained unyielding. The clash between filial respect and personal ambition stirred tumultuous emotions within him, yet he remained steadfast in his commitment to follow his dreams. The dissonance between familial expectations and personal aspirations created a poignant struggle within Riayug, one that he grappled with in the pursuit of his calling.
The Falar Force's presence, a bastion of protection against the looming threats, had a branch nestled near Riayug's village. As the momentous threshold of 19 years loomed upon Riayug's horizon, marking the culmination of his schooling, a fervent desire ignited within him—to partake in the Falar's entrance battle contest, a gateway to his envisioned destiny. However, his impassioned aspirations clashed against the impenetrable fortress of parental objection.
A tempest brewed within the confines of Riayug's home—a battle not against external adversaries but against the ones closest to his heart. His fervour collided with his family's apprehension, leading to a confrontation laden with emotions—a tumultuous clash of wills and desires.
The pivotal night, shrouded in an eerie stillness, unfolded with a sinister twist. As Riayug sought solace within the walls of his home, the tranquillity was shattered by a chilling cry rending the air. Rushing out from his room, a scene of unimaginable horror greeted him—a tableau of terror etched in blood and despair.
His parents, once beacons of guidance and guardianship, lay lifeless, their existence devoured by the merciless dead inhuman—an entity twisted by malevolence. His sister, a picture of abject terror, trembled in fear, her cries piercing the silence, as the grotesque creature advanced, its visage marred by carnage and bloodlust.
In an instant, primal instincts surged within Riayug, surmounting fear and shock. With unyielding resolve, he charged forth to shield his sister from the looming threat. The dead man, a grotesque manifestation of horror, bore the marks of savagery, half of its face torn asunder, a ghastly reminder of the horrors that besieged their world. In that chaotic, heart-wrenching moment, Riayug's protective instincts surged, propelled by a fierce determination to defend his loved ones against the encroaching darkness.
In a frenzied flurry of instinct and desperation, Riayug unleashed a brutal assault on the dead inhuman threatening his sister's life. With a resounding crash, he slammed the creature's face into a wooden showpiece adorning the wall. The sickening impact reverberated through the room as a jagged shard of wood pierced the undead's left eye—a gruesome testament to Riayug's desperate defence.
Yet, the monstrosity persisted, fueled by a grotesque resilience that defied mortality. Despite the devastating blow, it staggered forth, its malevolent intent undeterred. Riayug, propelled by a surge of primal strength, engaged in a relentless struggle against the fiend. His sinewy frame quivered with exertion as he grappled with the relentless undead, each movement an agonising battle.
In a clash of sheer determination, Riayug's unwavering resolve clashed against the unyielding malice of the undead. The fight was a symphony of chaos, a test of wills and strength. Though battered and wounded, Riayug's tenacity held firm as he employed every ounce of his brute strength to subdue the relentless assailant.
The skirmish left its mark—a searing pain seeped through Riayug's right arm, a testament to the ferocity of the encounter. Despite the injuries, he succeeded in safeguarding his sister, a testament to his unyielding commitment to protect those he held dear.
Emerging from the harrowing ordeal within their home, a grim realisation awaited them. The tranquillity of their village had shattered, engulfed in the throes of an all-encompassing onslaught. The night air crackled with chaos as the echoes of battle reverberated through the once-peaceful streets, signalling the village's descent into turmoil and peril.
Zaaro's gaze swept across the expanse of Demano Don Hall, the towering heart of the Falar Force. Amidst the grandeur of the main quarter, a lingering concern gnawed at his thoughts—an absence that weighed heavily on his mind.
"This is Demano Don Hall," Zaaro mused to himself, taking in the imposing structure before him. His induction into the Falar Force had granted him access to this revered sanctuary, yet amidst the awe-inspiring surroundings, a solitary question lingered, casting a shadow of worry upon his thoughts.
His mind drifted to Riayug, a steadfast companion whose absence resonated within the chambers of Zaaro's consciousness. Memories flooded in—recollections of Riayug's unwavering determination, his burning ambition to defy all odds and join the Falar Force. The spectre of parental objections loomed as a significant hurdle in Riayug's path, a fact Zaaro recalled vividly.
"I remembered he was once telling me that his parents were against the idea of joining the Falar Force," Zaaro muttered softly, a glimmer of concern etched into his expression. Yet, amidst the parental opposition, Zaaro harboured a steadfast belief in Riayug's unwavering resolve—a conviction that Riayug's determination would prevail, spurring him to surmount any obstacle in pursuit of his dreams.
Zaaro stood before the expansive halls of Demano Don Hall, the grandeur of the place surpassing his initial expectations. The echoes of bustling activity reverberated through the corridors, painting a picture of a world teeming with purpose and resolve.
"This place is way bigger than I anticipated," Zaaro mused, his eyes scanning the sprawling quarters. Despite his awe at the scale of the establishment, a resolute determination flickered within him—a drive to navigate these labyrinthine halls and immerse himself in the call of duty.
"I must reach the class as soon as possible," he muttered under his breath, his footsteps quickening as he sought out the designated destination. Amidst the flurry of movement, a pivotal realisation struck—a realisation that brought him face-to-face with the core purpose of his presence within these hallowed halls.
"Here it is," Zaaro acknowledged, standing before a door that marked the threshold to a new chapter. Gathering his resolve, he addressed the figure beyond the threshold, seeking permission to step into the realm where his destiny as a protector would begin.
Commander Lorinks stood at the helm of the assembly, a figure exuding authority and experience, as Zaaro and the other new recruits gathered in anticipation. His presence commanded attention as he acknowledged Zaaro's request to enter.
"Yes, you may come inside," Commander Lorinks affirmed, his voice carrying a tone of authority tempered with a hint of warmth.
Zaaro stepped into the chamber, joining the cohort of eager newcomers, their eyes alight with a blend of enthusiasm and apprehension. As they settled into their designated spaces, Commander Lorinks addressed the assembly, his voice resonating with a sense of responsibility and purpose.
"Good morning, everyone. I am your commander, and my name is Lorinks," he began, his tone firm yet assuring. "From now on, you all are going to work under me."
Amidst the poised silence, Lorinks pivoted the discourse towards an urgent matter, a gravity weighing upon his words. "As you all know, our duty is to protect the people from the dead men and the demons who come from the demon jungle."
Pausing for a moment, Lorinks cast a solemn gaze upon the gathering, his expression reflective of the weight of his revelation. "But before starting today's session, I want to tell you all something very important."
His words, laden with solemnity, conveyed the harsh realities that often accompanied their duty. "The day before yesterday, there was an attack on the Ember Core Quarter by the dead men from the North side. As our forces grappled with this threat, some of these malevolent entities attacked a village nearby—it was Katancho village."
A sombre hush fell over the assembly as Lorinks revealed the devastating outcome. "By the time reinforcements reached, the whole village was destroyed."
With a grave countenance, he continued, "For now, the third quarter is badly damaged, leaving only two of the quarters active. Our primary objective is ensuring the safety of our people."
Grim determination etched into his features, Lorinks outlined their forthcoming actions. "We will dispatch some of the second and third-year soldiers towards the North to secure the safety of the people residing there."
The weight of Lorinks' words lingered in the air, painting a stark picture of the harsh realities they faced in their roles as protectors against the encroaching darkness.
"Coming back to the main topic," Lorinks resumed, steering the discussion toward the crux of their training, "you will learn different combat skills here from different disciplines."
His voice, resonating with a blend of authority and guidance, carried an air of seasoned expertise. "Each of you will be equipped with the necessary tools and techniques to face the challenges that lie ahead."
With a solemn nod, Lorinks emphasised the gravity of their role. "Our duty is not just to wield strength but to employ strategy and skill in safeguarding our world from the malevolent forces that threaten its peace."
The commander's words bore the weight of experience as he underscored the significance of their training. "Through rigorous training and dedication, you will learn to become guardians, adept in the art of protecting our realm from the encroaching darkness."
With unwavering resolve, Lorinks concluded, "This journey will demand your utmost commitment and perseverance. You will emerge not just as soldiers but as defenders—sentinels against the tides of malevolence that seek to engulf our world."
Zaaro's countenance shifted, his features contorted by a tumult of emotions, as Commander Lorinks revealed the fate that befell Katancho village. A shroud of disbelief enveloped Zaaro, his mind grappling to reconcile the grim reality with his steadfast belief in Riayug's strength.
His voice lingered only within the confines of his thoughts, the words a whisper amidst the echoing silence of the assembly. "My mind got numb for some moments," Zaaro contemplated, his heart heavy with disbelief. "I know that dead men are strong, but Riayug was even stronger than me. How can he... how can he die? I won't believe it."
A gnawing uncertainty clawed at Zaaro's conviction, challenging the foundation of his beliefs. Riayug, an embodiment of resilience and prowess, stood as an indomitable figure in Zaaro's eyes. The news of his demise clashed violently with the image etched in Zaaro's mind—a staunch protector who seemed invincible in the face of adversity.
Yet, amidst the throes of disbelief, a flicker of determination kindled within Zaaro. A fervent resolve ignited—a vow to uncover the truth, to seek clarity amid the chaos that shrouded the fate of his comrade. For Zaaro, the belief in Riayug's strength transcended the boundaries of rationality; it was an unwavering faith that propelled him to seek the truth behind the unsettling news.
Understood! Zaaro's concern about Riayug's absence from the entrance contest at Shunko Den, one of the pivotal headquarters of the Falar Force, was a stark realisation amid the looming anticipation of the event.
Zaaro's unease manifested as he scanned the bustling surroundings, a surge of anxiety gripping him as the minutes ticked by. "He is late," Zaaro muttered, his gaze flitting across the sea of participants congregating for the contest. The weight of the impending deadline bore down upon him, a knot of worry tightening in his chest.
"Here are thousands of people for the contest," Zaaro observed, his apprehension growing palpable. The formidable crowd, brimming with individuals exuding strength and determination, painted a daunting picture. The challenge of the competition loomed, amplified by the formidable contenders vying for entry.
"Daaam it," he muttered under his breath, a momentary expression of frustration at the potential repercussions of Riayug's delay. The dwindling minutes before the commencement of the contest seemed to stretch endlessly, a mere 40 minutes remaining, each passing second intensifying the concern gnawing at Zaaro.
"Where is he?" Zaaro's whisper escaped amidst the clamour, the question a silent plea as he grappled with the absence of his friend. The significance of Riayug's delayed arrival weighed heavily on Zaaro's mind, a crucial moment slipping away, threatening to hinder Riayug's chance to participate in the contest.
The palpable anticipation of the event infused the atmosphere with a sense of urgency. Amidst the throng of aspirants, the coveted Demano Don Hall beckoned—an emblem of distinction and aspiration, where only a select few would tread within its revered quarters. The anticipation was electric, each contender yearning to be part of the pivotal event that could shape their destinies within the Falar Force.
The expanse before Shunko Den, the headquarters of profound significance within the Falar Force, brimmed with energy and fervour. An expansive open ground lay stretched out in front of the imposing quarter, a canvas where the aspirations of numerous hopefuls and the ambiance of anticipation intermingled.
Amidst the dynamic setting, a raised platform served as the focal point—a stage where the names of contenders resounded through the air. Positioned atop this platform stood Harix, not just a combatant but a commanding figure within the Falar Force. His presence exuded authority, distinct from the rest, marking him as a commander of considerable stature.
Adorned not only with prowess but also an air of leadership, Harix commanded attention. The fiery wings aglow with blue flames, emblematic of his ethereal power, were an enigmatic sight. However, it was his demeanour—a poised and commanding presence—that set him apart.
Among the bustling crowd, Harix stood as a symbol of distinction, a testament to his position of influence within the hierarchy of the Falar Force. His role extended beyond mere combat; he wielded authority and command, guiding the proceedings with a measured and authoritative presence.
The atmosphere crackled with anticipation, the anticipation of a contest that held the potential to shape destinies within the esteemed ranks of the Falar Force. Harix, not just a fighter but a commander of significant stature, loomed over the proceedings, his influence permeating through the charged air of the event.
Suddenly, Zaaro's name echoed through the bustling arena, signalling an unexpected and unprepared entry into combat against an opponent named Bran. Before he could react, a lightning-fast punch hurtled toward his face, connecting with a resounding smash. The impact sent Zaaro reeling backward, engulfed in a storm of debris as the wall shattered around him.
Bran, a formidable adversary, emerged as a towering figure, dwarfing Zaaro in both size and strength. His robust physique exuded raw power, emphasising a reliance on brute force. Yet, what unnerved Zaaro was the dual threat Bran wielded—a combination of sheer physical might and the lethal precision of a kunai.
The realisation struck Zaaro like a bolt—the opponent he faced possessed not only overwhelming strength but also brandished a menacing kunai. In contrast, Zaaro relied on his mastery of a distinct one-handed knife, rumoured to carry a curse among those in the know. However, such rumours didn't deter Zaaro; he remained undeterred, resolute in his determination despite the ominous whispers surrounding his blade.
The battleground transformed into a whirlwind of movement and clash—a testament to divergent combat styles and unyielding resolve. Against the backdrop of a shattered wall, the confrontation unfolded—a test of strength, strategy, and the unspoken determination that characterised the clash between Zaaro and Bran.
Zaaro got up from the pile of rocks and suddenly had to deal with Bran charging at him. Bran moved really fast and surprised Zaaro, who didn't expect such speed from someone so big. It was different from what Zaaro originally thought about Bran being slow because of his size.
Struggling to maintain his footing, Zaaro engaged in a desperate defence against Bran's ferocious assault. The first punch had landed with devastating impact, leaving the left side of Zaaro's face marred by injury. Despite his efforts to fend off the relentless attacks, Zaaro found himself grappling to withstand Bran's relentless onslaught, his defences strained under the relentless barrage of strikes.
In the heart of the intense skirmish, Bran's combat approach remained deceptively straightforward—his attacks were swift, grounded in simplicity, yet delivered with startling speed. Zaaro grappled with the speed and precision of Bran's strikes, his defence strained to keep up with the relentless assault.
Bran's strategy unfolded with deceptive simplicity. His movements were swift, darting around to evade and counter with calculated precision. As he lunged forward, aiming a cross-directional punch towards Zaaro, the lethal glint of his kunai appeared menacingly close, intercepting Zaaro's dagger with explosive force.
The collision echoed through the air—a reverberation born of the clash between the ordinary and the extraordinary. The unexpected force unleashed by the collision of blades sent shockwaves through both combatants, a testament to the latent power coursing within Zaaro's seemingly ordinary dagger.
Surprisingly, while the revelation seemed to slightly unnerve Zaaro, Bran appeared less taken aback and more infuriated by the unexpected outcome of their clash. Undeterred by the unforeseen turn, Bran surged forth in a direct charge towards Zaaro, driven by sheer determination.
However, this time, the tables turned. Zaaro seized a fleeting advantage, swiftly manoeuvring to twist Bran's arm and deftly manoeuvre his dagger towards Bran's neck. In a split-second, the blade found its mark, inflicting a critical injury upon Bran, momentarily shifting the momentum of the fierce confrontation.
With sheer determination, Zaaro emerged victorious from the intense confrontation, his triumph overshadowed by the toll of battle. His battered form, battered and drained, lay too fatigued to stir. Yet, despite his exhaustion, the selection committee granted him passage into the revered Demano Don Hall—a concession, perhaps, owed to the enigmatic power harboured within his unique dagger.
However, in the throes of his own victory, Zaaro remained oblivious to the parallel narrative unfolding elsewhere. Little did he know the tumultuous events unfolding in Riayug's world at that exact moment.
TO BE CONTINUED…